


Gorgeous Motherfucker

by shame_less18



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Domestic Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, M/M, Married Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Self-Conscious Mickey Milkovich, Self-Esteem Issues, all problems solved with smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:28:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23072482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shame_less18/pseuds/shame_less18
Summary: When an awkward and untimely conversation comes up at the dinner table, Mickey is left feeling... uncomfortable? Whatever feeling it is, Ian sure as hell doesn't like it, and he'll do anything to make his thug husband feel better.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, mentioned Lip Gallagher/Tami Tamietti
Comments: 14
Kudos: 267





	Gorgeous Motherfucker

**Author's Note:**

> There is some weird (fetishy?) smut in this fic. I haven't written smut in like, 5 years, and it was a different fandom so I would greatly appreciate feedback! Enjoy! :)

“Don’t forget, we’re goin’ to dinner tonight with my family!” Ian shouted as the door was closing behind him. Mickey sighed and hung his head, his hand coming up to rub at his eyes. He was really hoping that his husband would forget about the commitment of going to the noisy ass Gallagher house for Saturday night family dinner where they would no doubt be stuck into the early hours of the morning. He had simply expected too much, hoping for his family oriented ginger fuck of a husband to forget. Whatever, he thought, he loved said ginger fuck. Now he had to go through the rest of the day knowing that he would be spending his Saturday night surrounded by loud laughter and teasing that he would never admit to finding endearing. Mickey scrubbed his hand down his stubbly face, swiftly turning on his heel and heading in the direction of the bedroom. It was still early as fuck o’clock, and Mickey would probably never own up to the fact that he was only up this early on his day off to see Ian off to work. Fuck though, if he was going to spend his evening at the Gallagher’s, he would need all the sleep he could get.

The day passed quickly, Ian at work and Mickey waking up passed noon only to watch T.V. and do laundry. It seemed like the day passed way too quickly, and soon, Ian was tumbling in the door to their crappy South Side apartment with only two things on his mind; a shower and food. Mickey was more than happy to ease his lovers’ tension, doing so by joining him in said shower. Almost as soon as the steam dissipated, they were out the door on the way to the Gallagher house a few blocks over.

Dinner was going fine so far, Ian and Mickey sat elbow to elbow at the table, Lip with Fred in his lap across from them, Debbie to Lip’s right, Carl next to Debbie, and Liam on the other side of Ian. Tami was lingering against the kitchen counter, Kev and Vee sitting at each end of the table respectively. Their girls, along with Franny were in the living room playing. Overall, it was quite a quiet dinner, Fiona’s presence sorely missed. Regardless, conversation was making its way around the table.

“Hey, Lip, did you guys get Fred cut?” Everyone let out a groan or a sigh at Carl’s untimely question, but nonetheless, Tami piped up.

“Eww. Why wouldn’t we?” she sounded appalled at the idea. Ian saw Vee’s eyes widen and almost bulge out of her head. He smirked over a mouthful of spaghetti, keeping his head down to enjoy the argument that he sensed was about to ensue.

“You believe in mutilating genitals?!” she shouted, disgust apparent in her tone. But Lip shrugged, a slightly thoughtful look taking over his features.

“I dunno, I just kinda figured we’d do it because I have more-“ he struggled to find the word, “experience with that than the-“ he hesitates again, clearly having not thought his sentence through before speaking, “alternative.” Ian’s smirk returned. Hearing his once arrogant brother stumble over his words as a result of a lack of nicotine was amusing.

“Most parents just do whatever the father has.” Debbie chimes in, hoping the conversation would end there.

“But what about when there are two moms?” Carl asks. He can never let these things go, can he? Mickey only feels slightly uncomfortable throughout the discussion. So long as he isn’t expected to add his own input, he’s fine to just indulge on free pasta that he didn’t have to cook.

“I don’t know, Carl” Debbie sounds exasperated. Her hand is cupped around her hairline, annoyance evident on her face. Everyone can see as another thought crosses Carl’s mind. His face is just too expressive. Mickey’s stomach almost falls out of his ass as he sees the younger Gallagher turn toward himself and Ian.

“Ian, what would you guys do if you had a son?” Ian chokes on his mouthful of meatball, clearly not expecting such a forward question. He takes a minute longer than needed to compose himself, using it as a distraction so he can come up with an appropriate answer.

“Uhh,” he sputters, cheeks reddening. He can feel Mickey’s hard gaze on his profile as he receives a look that says something like ‘fuck this up and I’ll fuck you up’. The whole rooms worth of eyes are on him now.

“I don’t think it would really matter what we do,” he says finally, gaining confidence. “We sorta have one of each to use for an example.” Ian is pretty sure that he can feel the exact moment the daggers in Mickey’s eyes meet his cheek. He strategically ignores his small angry husbands gaze and looks around the table at everyone’s thoughtful expressions. He’s glad that nobody has said anything yet. Until Carl. Always fucking Carl.

“Mickey, you’re uncut?!” he seems to shout a little too loudly for Mickey’s liking.

“Shut the fuck up” Mickey shoots back, scraping the last of his food into his mouth. He tries to ignore the embarrassed blush he feels creeping up his neck. 

“Carl, you were uncut for like 15 years of your life.” Debbie cuts in. “Leave Mickey alone.”

The rest of the meal passes without much more embarrassment. As much as Mickey hates to admit it though, he found himself repeating Tami’s initial reaction to the question over and over in his head. The disgust was evident in her tone. He wanted to chalk it up to her being a bitch, but years of sharing a thin wall with Mandy and overhearing her conversations made him suddenly very aware of the fact that people were legitimately disgusted with uncircumcised penises. Mickey was never the type to let these things bother him, but the more he thought about it, the more worried he became. Carl had been so worried about his own foreskin that he had it cut off as a teenager. Should Mickey be worried too? It would make sense; Ian was used to cut dicks. All his brothers were cut, he was cut, probably all the old men he fucked were cut. Mickey suddenly felt very out of place; very self conscious. Through the rest of the evening, Mickey’s hand kept finding its way to thumb at his bottom lip. A nervous tick. He hoped nobody would notice the effect that the conversation had on him.

When Ian and Mickey crossed the threshold into the apartment, Ian’s hands immediately found their way to his husband’s hips. The redhead kicked the door shut, not bothering to lock it. He leaned forward, nosing at the junction between Mickey’s neck and shoulder, taking a deep breath and humming appreciatively as his husband’s scent filled his nose. Mickey had just gotten his shoes off, his back grazing lightly against Ian’s chest as his lover breathed him in. As he felt Ian stepping out of his own shoes, his neck was suddenly being assaulted with kisses and nibbles. A smile crossed his face as his hands reached up to tug on red hair, pulling Ian’s body closer. The kisses turned into long licks from his ear lobe to his collarbone, and Mickey could feel a twitch in his jeans. 

He turned in Ian’s arms, his own arms coming up to circle broad shoulders, a hand clutched in soft red tresses as Ian’s soft red lips met his own. A groan escaped Ian’s throat as Mickey deliberately rubbed his thigh in between his husbands, the delicious friction bringing the redhead to full alertness. Desperation filled Mickey’s stomach as he reached to push Ian’s jacket off his shoulders, his hands finding the hem of Ian’s t-shirt before the jacket even hit the floor. Ian shuffled his feet, slowly getting the pair to start stumbling to the bedroom, clothes flying off in every direction as they went. Soon, Mickey felt his calves hit the edge of the bed, and he fell back, his lips only parted from Ian’s when they’re situated with the redhead on top on the bed. The only clothes left now were boxers, and Ian pulled his lips from Mickey’s so he could lean back and admire the swollen, pink lips and blown out blue eyes of his husband. His mouth attached to Mickey’s pale neck again, licking and biting softly at the skin there. A gasp escaped Mickey’s throat as Ian worked his way down with his mouth, lips tugging and pressing at every inch of skin he had access to. As Ian’s fingers drew nearer and nearer his boxers, Mickey was ashamed to find himself suddenly way too aware of the conversation at dinner. His bottom lip got pulled in between his teeth, lopsided enough that when his thumb came up to rub at it, there was still enough lip for it to make contact. 

Ian freezes. He’s known Mickey for a long time. He knows all his habits, the way his eyes widen when they make love, the way he rubs his temples in annoyance. And he definitely knows that the lip bite and thumb rub he just witnessed were because of nerves and anxiety wrapped up into two simple gestures. He looked up from where he was hovering just over Mickey’s navel. Green eyes met blue. He sees a flash of nerves behind his husband’s irises.

“Mick, what’s on your mind?” he asked gently, leaning back onto his heels. His fingers grazed Mickey’s chin, and he noticed that his husband was avoiding eye contact now. Mickey was propped up on his elbows, had been since they made it to the bedroom, and the position just made it easier for him to avoid the redhead’s eyes.

“The fuck you talkin’ about?” Ian was pretty sure that Mickey meant for that to sound aggressive, but it came out rather quiet and scratchy.

“Mick, c’mon, I can tell somethin’ is messin’ around in that head.” Ian can see Mickey’s internal battle through his eyes. He could see the nerves, followed by embarrassment, followed by annoyance, followed by his giving in. Ian waited patiently, knowing Mickey would tell him what was going on in his own time. Finally, the dark-haired man took a deep breath in and rolled his eyes, and Ian knows he rolled them at himself rather than Ian.

“Man, this is so fucking stupid.” He starts, his hand rubbing at his temples and then scrubbing down his face. Annoyance. Embarrassment. Ian knew that whatever Mick was about to say was a struggle for him. “Do you care that I’m-“ he stops. Hesitates. He took another breath, his lip between his teeth again.  
“Do you care that I’m not cut?” the sentence tumbled out so fast that Ian almost missed it entirely. Once he registered the words that his husband finally spat out, Ian had to take a moment to process them. Mickey Milkovich, once the most badass thug on the South Side of Chicago, was feeling self conscious. Ian couldn’t help himself. He leaned down, pressed his lips to his husband’s.

“Mick, if I cared, do you think I would have married it?” he asks gently, his fingers tilting Mickey’s chin up to force their eyes to meet. He knew that Mickey probably tried to use that to reason with himself in his own head, and Ian knows better than anyone that hearing reassuring words from the person you love seems to make things much easier to handle. Mickey kept averting his eyes, and Ian decided that those words simply weren’t enough.

“I promise Mick, I love your cock the way it is. I’m gonna show you.” Ian deliberately lowered his voice, making it hot and breathy against Mickey’s face. He could see the flush rising in his husband’s cheeks, and he knew that he was on the right track. His lips pressed to Mickey’s for a quick second before he was on his knees between Mickey’s legs where they partially hung off the bed. Ian knew better than anyone that Mickey Milkovich was a man of actions. 

A hum escaped Ian’s throat as his lips met the soft, pale skin that made up Mickey’s inner thigh. He could see his husband’s head thrown back in pleasure and a hint of embarrassment as he sucked a dark purple bruise into the beautiful flesh under his lips. His hands were running up and down the indentation between thigh and hip over boxers, his fingers ghosted over the supple skin just above the dark-haired man’s waistband as he worked to try and get his husband’s attention back on what was important. After what seemed to be 30 seconds too long, Ian could see the tent growing right before his eyes. His mouth watered, and he looked back up to the blown out blue eyes above him.

“You look so good, Mick.” He rasped out; his eyes drawn back to the bulge in front of him. Ian felt his own cock stirring in his pants from the sight of his gorgeous husband getting hard just from the contact of his hands on his hips. His fingers caught the elastic of Mickey’s boxers, hooking just enough to pull them down. He groaned as his lover’s thick, pale cock sprung free, grazing his chin as it did so. Ian was quick to discard the offensive garment, assuming his position between strong thighs in a moment’s notice.  
Ian really wasn’t exaggerating when he said that he loved Mickey’s cock. As far as he was concerned, it was the sexiest cock he had ever laid his eyes on. It wasn’t long per say, but fuck if it wasn’t thick. Ian loved the way it looked, big and hard for him. The way the foreskin rolled back when Mickey was at his most desperate, looking like it was begging to be touched. Ian’s mouth watered, his eyes taking in the irresistible sight before him. Fuck, he could cum just from looking at his husband’s cock.

“Fuck, Mick. You’re so hard.” He hummed hungrily. He brought his mouth ever closer to the stiff flesh before him, watched as it twitched with anticipation. Not being able to resist much longer, Ian brought his nose down to the black hair surrounding his lover’s length. He took a deep inhale, his nose filling with the smell of musk, sweat, and just Mickey. A groan filtered out of his nose as he breathed there for a few seconds, knowing full well that Mick hated when he did this. It embarrassed him, but as far as Ian was concerned, this scent was nothing to be embarrassed about. His own cock hardened more as the seductive aroma filled his lungs. 

“C’mon man, cut that the fuck out.” Mickey’s voice was broken, but Ian could hear the humiliation. He pulled his face away, getting off his knees. He climbed his way back up the bed, his elbows coming down on each side of Mickey’s head, forcing the shorter man to fall from his propped position. He hovered there, staring into the vulnerable eyes below him. 

“Look at what you’ve done to me, Mickey. All I did was look at you, smell you.” He rutted his rock-hard cock against his husband’s thigh. “You’re so fucking sexy, Mick. Hard and ready for me.”

A sound escaped Mickey that he would probably deny ever making. 

Ian crashed his lips to Mickey’s, his tongue working its way into his lover’s mouth. He got an immediate response, Mick’s mouth working with his own. If he didn’t have a point to prove, he would stay there kissing Mickey all night. He pulled away, a string of saliva attaching his lips to his husband’s. He took a second to appreciate Mickey’s blown out eyes, his slightly pink tinged cheeks, the look of vulnerability spread across his face as his lower lip was tugged by his teeth. Ian pressed a kiss to his lover’s cheek quickly before returning to his place between pale thighs on the floor. Once again, Ian found himself face-to-face with the hardness of his lover’s cock. A bead of precum was gathering at the tip, his balls were shifting in anticipation of the impending orgasm. Ian poked his tongue out between his lips, wishing Mickey would let him take a photo of this sight.  
“Fuck, Mick.” He ground out. He couldn’t waste another second, as much as he wanted to admire this cock for the rest of eternity. His tongue met the tip, lapping up the bead of moisture there. “tastes so good,” the redhead groaned before he wrapped his mouth around his husband’s length. He had no problem deep throating it, the tip pressing against the back of his throat. His nose was pressed against that nest of black hair again for a second before he pulled back and started bobbing his head, sucking as he went. His tongue was stroking his lover’s frenulum in tandem with his bobbing movements, and soon he felt Mickey’s fingers clutching at his hair in desperation. He pulled off with a ‘pop’, leaning his head back to stare into blue eyes. His hand wrapped around the hardened flesh, stroking at the same pace he’d been sucking at. A grin spread across his face as he took in how wrecked Mickey looked, his bottom lip sucked into his mouth in pleasure, fingers still trapped in red tresses. He rolled Mickey’s foreskin up and down his length, enjoying the way it moved with his hand. Ian made sure to maintain eye contact as he turned his head a bit to nip at the skin and suck it into his mouth, thoroughly enjoying the way the dark-haired man’s cheeks flushed and his eyes closed, head thrown back. The redhead continued stroking as he lowered his head to mouth at perfect, pale balls. He felt them tense up and knew that his husband was close. He guided the thickness back into his mouth, slurping up the beads of precum that dripped freely down the length. His hand rolled the skin back up, his mouth sucking at it and tonguing at the frenulum simultaneously. Mickey’s whole body tensed up, shaking, toes curling, fingers clutching at red hair. 

“Fuck Ian!” was all Ian heard before his mouth was filling with thick salty fluid. He swallowed every drop, staring at his husband’s clenched up orgasm face. His own cock twitched, begging for attention. He dropped his hand and stroked himself as he used his tongue to clean up Mickey’s spent cock. Ian watched, lip between his teeth, as the skin on his lover’s cock rolled back into place, covering the overly sensitive tip until round two. He felt as pleasure rippled through his own body, from his toes to his scalp, spurting into his hand at the thought of sucking this cock again so soon. When he looked back up at Mickey, he smiled at the content look on his face. He wiped his hand on the inside of his boxers (which he had forgotten to shed) before shakily climbing his way back up to lay on his side next to his husband. The hand he hadn’t just busted on came up to caress a flushed cheek, his lips gently meeting the corner of Mickey’s mouth.

“Don’t you ever think that I don’t find every part of you sexy, ever again.” He growled, appreciating the smitten look he received from his husband after a prompt eyeroll. Ian felt his tone and eyes soften, the last thing he wanted was for Mickey to ever feel like he wasn’t perfect.

“You’re one gorgeous motherfucker, Mick.”


End file.
